


Lost at Sea

by AineDoyle



Category: One Direction
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Canada Military, Character Deaths, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AineDoyle/pseuds/AineDoyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plane goes down in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean as five boys from the popular boyband struggle physically and mentally to survive. Will they be rescued in time or will they forever be "lost at sea."?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

Splash!  
Don’t Panic!

That was all Liam could think of as he hit the cold water after free falling from the plane. Confusion set in as the cushion-turned- floatation device kept bringing him farther and farther down into the depths of the sea. No, he thought, NO. Panic set in as he thought he was going down to his watery grave. Then he remembered the words that Bran, the flight attendant, told him as the plane started to go down. Trust the float he remembered and he remained steadfast with his grip as the former cushion continued its journey down until broke the surface of the water, and he took his first gasp of air since he left the plane. Confused and scared, Liam looked at his surroundings.  
The waves of the night’s ocean were high and uncontrolled as he bobbed up and down with his cushion. He yelled for help but he knew that he would be among twelve other people on the private jet from London to New York, and no one would come to his aid. From what he could see, he was not alone in the cold water and the raft was already inflated and taking passengers. He kicked as hard as his frozen legs could muster towards the raft using its lantern and the moonlight for his guidance. The waves were making it difficult to hang on the cushion, but Liam managed to get there in one piece. 

“There’s Liam,” he heard Katie Ray yell from inside the raft and several people lifted him up into the rescue device. He collapsed in a heap on the floor of the raft exhausted, freezing, and feeling very sick. A dry towel and a warm blanket were wrapped around him and he looked up to see Louis and Niall rubbing his shoulders dry and warm. 

“Harry, grab my hand,” said Bran, the flight attendant. Liam lifted his head to see what was going on along with everybody else. He saw Harry struggling to grab a hold of Bran’s hand before a large wave knocked him off his floatation device and pulled him underwater.  
Panic set in and Liam looked at Louis; hoping he did not notice what had happened. He was wrong. Louis stared at the open water with a stiff expression waiting for….anything but the obvious. 

Bran jumped in after the young boy and soon surfaced with a limp Harry and handed him off to another flight personnel to pull him into the safety of the raft. Harry lied there coughing, sobbing, and gasping but seemingly alright as Louis comforted him on his near-death experience. Liam let out the breath he was apparently holding and looked around raft to see who was there with him. There was Katie their PR manager, Paul their bodyguard, the three flight attendants and the two pilots. Of course there was Niall, Louis, Harry, and…  
Liam looked around again. Where was Zayn? He tried to keep his panic down. Then he remembered that Zayn couldn’t swim and panic arouse in a shrill voice as he called out involuntarily.  
“ZAYN”, Liam screamed, “ZAYN.” He looked out at the sea. It was too dark to see anything but waves and plane debris. Soon the other boys were looking for him in a panic. 

“We need to find him,” Katie said in a way that suggest more like it would be important for PR reasons rather than someone’s life was at stake. Liam didn’t like that and he looked at her in seething anger. 

“There,” Niall pointed out, but he tone was anything but relieved. Liam looked to find a body about a few feet from the raft floating face-down. It was wearing the same outfit as Zayn. It was not Zayn. Liam refused to believe that this was Zayn. It had to be some mistake. 

Bran jumped in after it, but he was too late and the water brought the body down. Still the young flight attendant persisted and dove after it. Liam continued to look for the real Zayn. He could not help but notice that Bran surfaced several times empty-handed before he finally had a hold of the body. He struggled to bring it to the raft and pull it in to safety.  
Liam could not pretend any longer as the one of the pilots laid an unconscious Zayn on his back. He lifted his chin and pinched his nose. Liam could only watch as the pilot breathed two breaths into Zayn, but his chest remained still even as he received artificial respiration. The pilot proceeded to push the young boy’s diaphragm to clear his lungs. Water came out of Zayn’s asphyxiated mouth with every shove and then pilot proceeded to breathe for the young boy. 

“He still has a pulse,” the other pilot announced after checking Zayn’s wrist, but it brought little comfort to Liam as he thought of losing him forever. Tears pooled in his eyes as he and everyone else sat there and watched; frozen in fear. 

It felt like forever, but suddenly Zayn’s chest finally jumped and lurched, coughing up the remainder of the water as he took his first breath. Liam felt it was safe to come over to him and comfort him after everyone was finished fussing over his chest and airway. Zayn would be scared and confused when he came around. Liam rubbed his back and hugged his blanket around his unconscious friend as he lied there, coughing and breathing with a ragged breath. Liam was going to take care of him. He vowed to stay with him until he awoke. He didn’t even move when Zayn started puking up the salt water that he must have swallowed. Liam looked at Louis, Harry and Niall trying to sleep from the ordeal. Paul was sheltering Katie and the female flight attendant named Nancy and the pilots and male flight attendants huddled together trying to figure out their next move. Liam hugged Zayn and closed his eyes, and settled in for a long night.  
*****

“Mayday! Mayday,” screamed the radio. Commodore Courtney Briggs heard the distress call of Flight 815 which went down about 50 miles off the coast of Nova Scotia, Canada. Court’s training kicked in as he went about his activities like he has done all before despite being his first time. He notified all of the surrounding air traffic controls, alerted his ranking officers of the situation, and notified all nearby naval bases in Canada, Greenland, and the United States. 

He sighed at last radar signal from the plane when he realized how close they were to land, and said a silent prayer for the passengers of such a small plane.  
“Sir”, a voice called to the officer. Court turned to see his Lieutenant looking at the flight information from air traffic control. 

“It states that the Flight 815 was carrying members of a British boy band to New York,” he said nonchalantly. Court did not care who they were, but immediately knew that the press was looking at him with a judgmental eye. A high profile search and rescue was not what he needed right now. It’s bad enough telling family members of the horror, but now the rest of the world was looking at them right now. 

“Who is the boy band,” Court asked, but truly not wanting to know. 

“They are called One Direction,” the Lieutenant looked confused. The boy was younger than he was, so maybe he did not have a daughter or a sister who was a fan of the boys, but Court’s daughter was a so-called “Directioner” and would be devastated when she finds out that her favorite band has died in a plane crash.  
Court would not let the news faze him however. He wanted to treated this flight like any other flight. He also knew that he would not treat this flight like any other flight. He knew that there was much more at stake.


	2. Day 2

“Uhhhhgg” Louis moaned as he draped over the side of the raft after another hurling session. He has been seasick for hours.   
Harry tried to comfort him by rubbing the back of his neck, but it was in vain. 

Niall was not much better as he lied on the now conscious Zayn’s shoulder. Seeing Louis throw-up made Niall just as sick, and it was not long before Niall retched up over the side of the raft. Liam felt really bad for him, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The sun already took a toll on everyone in the raft, and they were all really hot. Liam thought how strange it was that it was so cold last night, yet so hot now. A lump in his throat welled up thinking about when he woke up and saw one of the male flight attendants and the pilot, who saved Zayn, were dead. Hypothermia had taken them during the night.   
“Alright guys,” Bran said, with a huge jug of water, “here is some water.” He passed around one of the five jugs of water they have on raft. They were only supposed to drink three times a day and only two mouthfuls each. Water was life and to be out of it so quickly would be certain death for everyone. 

When everyone had their full of water they all sat there thinking. That was all they had left: thinking about rescue, thinking about death, and thinking about life. Harry tried whispering something funny to Louis, but all he got in response was a weak smile.   
“Niall,” Louis said with an impish grin, “you really look like a lobster now.” Niall did not appreciate the remark. Yes, the sun burned him, but they were all burnt and sweaty, and uncomfortable in the blazing, hot sun.   
“Lay off him Louis,” Zayn said, sensing Niall’s distress, “you don’t look any better.”  
Liam saw the fight that was about to brew, and had to intervene, “guys lets sing a song for the crew.” It was all he could think of, and the boys looked at him like he was crazy.   
“Really,” Louis said with a sassy irritation that he gets when he feels like crap, “Are we on an after school special? Do you really think that singing will make everything all better?”

“Let’s sing Little Things,” Katie cut in trying to be the positive upbeat person in this situation. Louis pouted a little, but in the end, knew he was being a twat trying to pick a fight. Liam and Nail knew it as well. When Louis felt miserable, he got crabby.   
“Your hand fits in mine, like it’s made just for me,” Zayn started off. Last night respiratory arrest took a toll on the boy. Zayn awoke, sick and sore from coughing so much. Bran allowed him to have more water due to the amount of salt water he swallowed, but the effect of the trauma was immediate. Liam looked at Zayn’s normally bright eyes. They were hollow and dull. His lips were already showing signs of dehydration with their cracked appearance. He was also lethargic as well. Liam worried about him so much. 

“Liam,” Harry reminded him, “it’s your turn.” Liam snapped out of his thoughts and continued with the song.   
The song seemed to do the trick as everyone settled into the raft trying to conserve energy. The sun was just so hot. Weren’t they in the northern section of North America, why was it so hot? Sure it was summer, but it felt like Jamaica in that raft. They sat there completely sweating, which seemed to concern Bran.   
“Guys take off your shirts. We need to cool our bodies down”, he commanded. Everyone obeyed the boy, except Nancy. She blushed and fidgeted with her fingers as she looked around at the young boys in the raft.   
“What is it?” asked Harry sensing her embarrassment.   
“I don’t have the appropriate undergarments,” she said as lady-like as she could, “my boyfriend lives in New York and when we landed I was going to…” Tears filled her eyes in embarrassment at having to explain her personal activities after the plane was supposed to land. Liam felt for her, he remembered in the flight how polite and sophisticated she was. Showing sexy underwear to a bunch of guys in their twenties would feel very uncomfortable.   
“It’ll be nothing we haven’t seen before,” Zayn said trying to play it off, “we’re young, not perverted.” She gingerly took off her blazer and blouse to reveal a lace corset underneath. Her ample cleavage spilled over the top of the bust, and her toned abs glistened with sweat. Liam turned away before anything else could arise. 

He watched Louis exaggeratedly shrug to tell her that her outfit was no big deal, and “womanizer” Harry smiled at her warmly before burying his face in Louis’ neck in awkwardness. Liam smiled at the thought of the press thinking Harry having no respect for women. If only they could see him now? What if they never see him again? Liam pushed the idea out of his head.   
Katie’s satin red bra was no better, but at least it covered her nipples. It’s like a bikini top, Liam reminded himself; these women need to cool down too. Not just us guys. When the shirts were off each passenger dipped their shirts into the sea and cooled the back of their necks. The water was inviting and it washed the sweat off of Liam’s back. Niall, however, was worse for wear. The salt water burned his sunburned blisters on the back of his neck.   
“Ahha”, Niall cried out in pain and he collapsed on the raft whimpering. He involuntarily shivered and Bran went immediately to his aid. Mindful of his second-degree burns, Bran put the wet shirt on the Irish boy’s temples and wrists, trying to cool him down. 

“Keep cool everyone,“ Bran advised as he helped Niall. Liam wrapped his shirt around his neck and went over to his burned friend to assist him. Niall had his eyes closed taking in the comfort of the sea water cooling him down. Bran looked at Liam studying him to see if he was qualified to take over. 

“He’s not taking the heat well,” said the flight attendant, “keep him out of the sun.” He placed Niall on Liam’s lap. The lad felt feverish and Liam for the first time was worried about him. It is more than a simple sunburn, and for the first time, the possibility of death became all too real. This time he could not push it out of him head that they might never get rescued and will be lost at sea.


	3. Day 3

“Take 30 degrees Northwest and check for signs of life,” Court radioed to a pilot. Three pilots came back without finding a single sign of the plane or the passengers. Negative thoughts pushed through the veteran’s head, but he quickly shoved them away. He had a job to do, and the training to do it.   
Three days, three days the plane went down and they had nothing to show for it. Every day they fail is a day where the boys are exposed to the elements of Mother Nature. The sea can be cold at night and the sun can cause problems for the passengers as well. 

Court took a minute to regain his composure. This was not a time to panic or worry about the boys. He was a Commodore in the Royal Canadian Navy; he did not have time to worry like a mother. He looked at the coordinates from the plane’s last radar signal. Then he looked up the weather patterns to see where the plan could have gone down, but without the black box, there was no way to know what really happened. If the engine exploded, then it could have set the plan back fifty kilometers. If the propeller went out then the plan would have veered to the right or left depending on the side. If tail broke, then the plan would have plummeted down at a sharper angle. 

Court looked at all the scenarios and talked to every engineer that was on his fleet, but for every scenario, there were a hundred possibilities that could have happened to the plane. It was a Gulfstream G550 so the fuel tank would have been bigger than other models traveling at 400 knots which was average cruising given the weather conditions and when it was last spotted on the radar map. However since the last air traffic control log and the time the plan went down the pilot could have speed up to the maximum 459 knots, even if the weather deemed it unsafe. Court just did not know. He also was not sure that he had the manpower to play out all the scenarios in his search mission. 

“Sir,” said one of his Captains, “the Commodore Perry is on the radio requesting to speak.”   
Court nodded and saluted back the lower officer. Commodore Perry is on the American base in Greenland working with the Greenland Coast Guard. While Court’s ship was the first to hear the distress signal the Canadian government knew that they needed the help of the Americans, Greenlanders, Danish and the United Kingdom in order to find the plane. It was tough with all the egos involved, but Court knew that they wanted to find the boys alive and well. The Canadians are spearheading this search, and Court’s fleet was spearheading the Navy and Court was spearheading his ships. The pressure grew between his shoulder blades when he actually took the time to think about it. 

“Commodore Perry,” Court said on the radio, he tried to massage the knotted muscle growing behind his neck, “What news do you have on the search. Over.”   
“We have come up with negative,” Perry’s voice spat through the speakers, “We will head Southwest at approximately 45 degrees on next go around. Over.” 

“Roger that,” Court said, trying to hide his disappointment, “Keep going and radio in if you see anything. Over and out.”   
Court placed the radio back in its cradle and decided to go for a walk on deck to clear his mind. When up there the salty breeze took his mind off the coordinates and flight patterns and meteorology reports. He did not have to think about adding the gust speeds and flight knots. He could just let the sea tell him what he needed to know. When he was a kid, he used to surf at the beaches of Cape Breton. Somehow he always knew when the next great wave that was about to happen. He closed his eyes and pictured himself on Kennington Cove on his surfboard with the words of his grandfather still echoing words of a fisherman’s wisdom.

“Trust the sea Courtney,” said his grandfather, with his thick Nova Scotia accent, “She’ll tell you what you need to know.” Court breathed him the smell of the salty air and thought of the boys going down in a plane. What would he do if he was them? Inflate the raft. They are on a raft, now what is happening, where is the sea taking them? 

“She sure can silence all this chaos,” a familiar voice stated. Court looked to see his mentor Admiral Kent. Court immediately offered a salute which the Admiral casually returned. Admiral Kent has been his mentor since he joined the Navy at eighteen. His grandfather and he served back in the day and grew up together. The Kents and Briggses have been together back when Cape Breton was a coal town. Kent still has pictured of his father and Court’s great-grandfather as pit boys with their ponies. If there was anyone he could talk to about this mess, it was Admiral Kent. 

“I keep running it all in my head sir,” Court confessed, “I just don’t know which one to choose next. We don’t have the resources to run every single scenario to the fullest.” The officer nodded. 

“I feel like every time we comeback with nothing, it is one more day that the boys are out in this heat and cold. It’s like I failed them,” Court admitted more to himself then to the Admiral, “they are probably dead on impact anyway.” The last sentence vomited out of him and he knew that was his worse fears. He was afraid that he would find them dead from either being too late, or the plane crash killed them and they are wasting their time and precious resources looking for dead bodies.   
Admiral Kent listened with concern. He had to have known the stakes, the world is watching Canada now, and it is their time to shine. Yet, Court knew it was more than that. It was how the boys impacted their fans. It was how the boys impacted his daughter. The devastation of their death, or worse, the fact of giving up on them and leaving them to die would be just too much for his daughter to bear. She was only ten, and a loss like this could affect her in ways that Court refused to think about. 

“What does the sea tell you,” Kent asked. Court listened to the water splash against the ship he felt the gentle bob on the vessel. Very few people could feel it, but Court always felt the current under his feet. Something told him that they were alive and on a raft. The sea was telling him that they were moving…

“Northeast,” Court said out loud. They were moving northeast. All this time they were following the same flight path that all the popular small aircrafts took when flying across the Atlantic, but Gulfstream G550 had a larger fuel tank, they could afford to go around the storm clouds that plagued that night. The pilot would not take the risk with such high-profile passengers. Then the current they were on would take them northeast. 

He saluted the Admiral before he went down to the Navigation room and go on the radio to signal the change in search patterns. It was a risk, but the sea has a way of telling the truth. Something told him that they will be there and they won’t be forever lost at sea.


	4. Day 4

“He’s starting to convulse again,” Katie yelled as Niall thrashed violently before their very eyes. His lips turned blue as he lost consciousness after shaking for over three minutes. Louis started to cry as he laid another cold compress on his unconscious friend’s head. 

“I’m so sorry,” he cried, clearly feeling guilty of calling friend a lobster two days ago, when he was really suffering from heat exhaustion. Liam could see Louis sobbing, yet the tears would not fall from his eyes. He needed water, they all needed water. Bran and Paul were building a makeshift tent out of everyone’s pants. This was supposed to shelter them from the sun. 

Niall woke up confused and dazed. He has been convulsing on and off since last night. It was the early signs of sunstroke Katie told them. He was not the only victim either. Yesterday the other pilot passed out from the heat and never woke up. Lifting him into the water was a painful as the first person. 

Nancy was lying on Harry’s shoulder shivering from the severe sunburn she had received. By now Harry was used to her outfit and the two became fast friends. He put his arm around her and she cried on his chest. 

“He’s such a sweet boy,” she said about Niall. She has not been taking the sickness on boat well. Every time someone gets weaker, Nancy acted like it was her own child. It pained her to see the silly, Irish boy who was trying to make her laugh a week ago was just so sick now. A week, Liam realized, was it? No it was only four days. Every hour felt like an eternity and every death felt like a member of his family. Liam could do nothing but shed tears. They were not going to be rescued.

Zayn shuffled over to his crying friend. Movement was harder for the boy. He no longer was sweating and sometimes was very confused. But now, he was lucid for once. He laid a bone dry arm over Liam’s sweaty neck and kissed his temple. Liam allowed himself to sob. He did not sob yesterday; he did not sob this morning or last night. But now he sobbed. What for? He could not possibly know. 

An hour of labor later and the make-shift tent was finished. Paul gingerly laid a very pale Niall underneath it. Louis joined him as he tried to get Niall to drink more water. Small sips were all the Irish boy could muster despite the pleas from his friend. Harry scooted with Nancy under the welcomed shade and the two rested. 

“I just want him to get better,” Louis said to Harry and he stroked Niall’s head until he slept. Harry looked longingly at his concerned Louis and grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Louis nodded and took a nap in the shade. 

Liam tried to join his friends but every time he moved his legs started to cramp up. Wincing in pain he decided to stay in the sun. He’d rather sweat than move another inch. Zayn stayed with him and let Liam rest on his lap while cooling him down with his wet shirt. It felt good to be taken care of. But suddenly Zayn stopped.

“Liam,” he asked weakly, “Can we go back to the hotel? It’s hot.” Liam sighed and fought off tears. How long will any on them last?

****

 

The sun finally went down. It felt really tranquil looking at the pink and purple clouds in the open ocean. The water was a deep purple with gold highlights and it would have been romantic if they were not lost at sea. 

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” Bran said. Liam was glad. It was bad enough to deal with the cold and heat, a storm would surly end them. He wondered if it would be a quick end, but quickly pushed the idea out of his head. His arms and legs were swollen and achy, and his tongue felt like a wad of sandpaper in his mouth. 

He looked at the others. Niall was lying still under the “tent”, and Louis was sleeping quietly next to him protecting him from the elements. Louis could not protect him, Liam thought, he was not God. Harry was resting close-by with Nancy on his shoulder.   
The young boy shifted ever so slightly in his sleep and the pretty woman’s head collapsed on his lap. The sudden movement jerked the boy awake. 

“Ow,” he let out a deep moan, but Nancy did not stir from where she’d fallen, “Nance?” no response. 

“Nancy,” Bran joined. She did not move. Panic came across Harry’s face. He shook her a little bit but got no response. Katie slid over and put her fingers on her neck. Liam only sat and stared. He knew. They all knew. 

“Nancy,” Harry exclaimed. The shout roused Louis awake and it did not take long to realize what happened. He grabbed Harry around the shoulders and held him close as if to protect him from the pain of losing a new friend. 

“She was supposed to see her boyfriend,” Harry said, “he was going to propose.” Tears came to his eyes. Liam looked at the pretty flight attendant’s limp body as she stared into the abyss of death. 

“She was going to have the wedding by the sea lions in Central Park,” Harry sobbed, “her dress will be pink.” Harry lost control and sobbed into Louis’ arms. 

“Harry,” cooed Katie, “please bear in mind that you need to conserve water.” Her tone was no longer about keeping them alive for the media. She was concerned for the young boy who liked to bake and smile. The notion did nothing to help Harry’s mood and he only sobbed harder. 

Zayn stirred awake and went over to help with the inevitable: the routine of burying her out to sea.   
They all said a few words to remember her by. Nancy was really like a mother to them. She always made sure that the boys were comfortable and safe. She never once complained. She always had a smile. 

“She always believed that the customer is the most important person on the plane,” Bran said. For the first time he had tears in his eyes. Liam remembered that Nancy and he shared a bond as well. He remembered when the plane went down, Bran grabbed hold of her hand and told her he’d never let go. This must be really hard for him. 

“She loved every person that was on the plane,” Bran continued, “and I promise Nancy that these boys will be rescued, and they will survive. I will never let go.”

Liam felt like he intruded on the private moment between the colleagues. It was a privilege to witness it. After a moment of silence for another fallen friend, Liam, Paul and Bran lifted Nancy into her watery grave. It was then that Liam saw a shadow move in the water. He leaned in closer before a gray shape emerged. 

“Shark,” Liam jumped back tripping over Katie and falling over in alarm. 

“Yeah, I noticed them following us since yesterday,” Bran said nonchalantly. Everyone just stared in the water looking at the sharks swimming around the life raft; waiting for them to join their feast.


	5. Day 5

Flashes of cameras were all Court could see during the twelve minute press conference when he reached Halifax. Reporters asking about the search, why are they still lost, why the Americans aren’t in charge, made Court feel worse about himself than he already did. 

Stupid New York Times, he thought to himself. Newspapers and reporters from around the world were there asking questions that he did not know the answers to. Why is it so hard to understand that they are looking for a needle a hundred haystacks? It did not help that the other Navies balked at his northeast plan and decided to take charge of their own search and rescue mission. A piece of him felt that they just wanted glory of finding such high-profile people. 

The knot in the back of Court’s neck pulsed with pain as he made his way home for the first time in five days. This would be the only part of his day that was actually good. This day went from bad to worse. He first had a meeting with Prime Minister Stephen Harper. In that meeting he had to explain the efforts and why Admiral Kent was deciding to go northeast instead of southwest like everyone else wanted. Court could not explain that the sea told him he was right. So he tried to explain it in a way that Harper could understand. It did not work. It also was bad when President Obama wanted to take his Navy and do an independent search and rescue. UK Prime Minister David Cameron decided to join the US President’s team and Danish Prime Minister, Helle Thorning-Schmidt decided to do her independent search as well. There goes the resources needed to do a proper search and rescue. 

Three independent search and rescues leads to inefficient searches and limited resources. The outlook looked grim and if he they were too late, it would be all Court’s fault. The thought alone made the knot in the back of his neck twinge a little harder. He rubbed it out, but it made him feel no better. 

He got home at last to the sounds of a Fox terrier barking. Spike ran and jumped up on to his leg. He was so happy to see his master home. Even if it is only a dog, the look of someone genuinely happy to see you was enough to warm Court heart. He picked up the little wire-hair terrier and let him lick his face. 

Next out to see him was his wife. God she looked great, Court thought. Still the same woman he fell in love with back in high school. She smiled at him and grabbed his briefcase and kissed his cheek and led him inside the house.   
“Daddy,” his daughter, Emma, called as she ran to give him a hug. He held her tight as if she was the only thing keeping him from busting out crying. She never doubted him; she never thought he was stupid for believing the sea. He was her hero and nothing could change that. 

The news was on in the background showing clips from his press conference. He looked like an idiot staring at the reporter’s question about why the plane crashed in the first place. Even now he wanted to yell at the reporter saying what does he look like, the pilot. He was growing more and more frustrated with the constant media coverage. They were telling stories about how one member of the band, he couldn’t remember the name, but it was the one with crazy hair, joined the mile-high club when the plane went down. Then they had stories about how they were found but they all were dead. The media had nothing better to do but make up stories. It was the biggest story at the moment, and it was one that had limited information about it.   
Emma was wearing a shirt that said “#Prayfor1D.” She wanted them to be found so bad. It broke his heart to see her so worried. She looked at him with confidence as if she knew that he was going to find him. Perhaps the sea told her too all the way in Halifax. 

“Princess,” Court asked, hoping to get his mind off the search, “I like your shirt. Did you make it yourself?” She nodded quietly. He also noticed that there was only one boy on the shirt: a blond boy with an innocent smile and round blue eyes. 

“Which one is that one,” he asked. He never cared for the boy band and secretly hoped that she would grow out of them and like better bands like the Pearl Jam or Red Hot Chili Peppers like him. But right now he wanted to know about the band that she loved so much. He wanted to feel closer to them and to her as well. 

“This one’s Niall,” she said. She cautiously looked at him. He never cared about it when she talked about them before, but he wanted to tell her it was okay to talk about her obsession of this boy band. 

“Is he your favorite member,” he asked. She smiled and nodded. 

“I love them all, but Niall is special,” she told him. She proceeded to tell him than Niall was from Ireland and he played guitar. Then she explained about Zayn and how he was Muslim and liked to draw. Harry was the one with the hair, that was easy to remember, and he liked ladies. Louis was the funny one and he had the thick eyebrows. No that was Liam, or was it Zayn?   
Court just listened to Emma talk about her favorite band. She talked about their jokes about vegetables and how funny their tweets were. She talked about their girlfriends and their favorite clothing brands. Court knew that most of this stuff was publicity. He knew that there was more to the story than their persona, but still he listened. He watched at tears formed in Emma’s eyes, as she thought about her boys being lost at sea. 

“Daddy,” she inquired, “they are safe right?”

Court did not know what to say. Even if they managed to get on a raft and drink plenty of water and eat plenty of food, they are still vulnerable to the elements of nature. They are still exposed, running out of food and resources. Even if they manage to float to a nearby island off the coast of Newfoundland of someplace, the rocky shore of Canada will be a horrible welcome party. Court only let his silence answer Emma’s question.

“Bring them home Daddy,” Emma said finally, “bring Niall home.”


	6. Day 6

“He’s gone,” a voice said. Liam opened his eyes for the first time today and saw it. He was not surprised. He was sick for a while now, but it did not make the pain any less horrific. Three years they were together and now he was gone. Harry was devastated, along with Liam. 

Paul was a good friend. He was more than a bodyguard; he was their confidant, their protector, their therapist, and their biggest supporter. Katie was gone as well. She stopped drinking to conserve water for the boys and sacrificed everything for their well-being. She didn’t tell anyone about this, but Liam saw her pretending to drink water so there will be enough for Niall. Liam vowed that her sacrifice would not be in vain. 

Liam, Bran, and Harry lifted Paul into the water. They said their goodbyes in silence and did not cry. There were no more tears to shed. This was their routine. Another friend dies, and they push him over the raft. Then they wagered within themselves who would be next. 

Niall has not stirred once since yesterday afternoon. He lied under the shaded tent, still, pale, and barely breathing. Liam knew he would not last another day. The heat finally became too much for Louis. His lips were so chapped and his skin was papery and thin. He was so lethargic that even lifting his head was too much to do. Zayn also did not stir. He would become conscious for only a few seconds before slipping off into a sleep that would last for hours. Liam could not wake him to even drink. They only gave him water if he woke up, which was becoming less frequent. In fact, the only ones that were fully conscious were Bran, Liam, and Harry. Bran tried his best to be upbeat, but the sea was getting to him and many times he forgot where he was. Nancy’s death took a toll on Harry, and he has been unable to show any emotion since that horrible day. Most of the time, he would just looked out onto the ocean; alone with his thoughts. Liam felt no better. His legs swelled, and the cramps were so frequent that moving was the worse. He just wanted to sleep all the time and he had not peed all day.   
It was in the middle of the day and they were lying in the raft when they heard it. Bran was under the tent with Niall. Liam and Harry propped themselves up against the side of the raft. Louis’ head rested on Harry’s lap like it was all day and all night. Zayn was resting on Liam’s lap. Liam checked his neck for any sign of life. A faint, but rapid rhythm pushed against Liam’s swollen fingers. Small puffs of hot air came out of his friend’s nose and Liam leaned back in relief. That was when they heard it.   
The faint noise of an engine was somewhere overhead. Was it? He looked up at the bright, blue sky. The steel bird looked like an ant to Liam, but it was definitely a plane. 

“Plane,” Liam tried to shout, but the dry words only squeaked out of his mouth. It was enough for Bran and both of them grabbed a mirror and a flare gun. Bran shot the fire ball into the air while Liam captured the sunlight with the mirror. Did it work? 

The plane responded by flying back around. Twice! Then it took off. 

“I think they saw us,” Bran said in relief. Liam cheered as loud as he could and it was enough to wake up Louis. 

“What,” Louis asked confused about the excitement. 

“A plane,” Liam said. Louis smiled and closed his eyes, “did you hear that Hazza?”

Liam looked at the young boy cradling the older boy’s head. Something did not look right. Louis sensed it too. Louis nudged Harry’s torso with his head and the hand that was draped over the Doncaster boy fell lifelessly aside. 

“Harry!” Louis cried. Using the raft to support him, Louis shook Harry with all his might. 

“Harry! Wake up,” Louis screamed, “there’s a plane Harry! Please wake up.” A small squeak came from the Chapel boy as he lifted his eyes to look at his Louis. 

“I want to die,” he sobbed a tearless sob, “Just let me die.” Louis never listened to Harry and he kept shaking him to wake back up. 

“Don’t you leave me, Hazza!” Louis hollered, “Don’t you leave me!”

Harry only responded with a smile and an idea, “Come with me Louis. You’ll like heaven. It is so nice.”   
Louis just shook his head, “A plane came. We’ll be rescued.” 

“I just want to die,” Harry pleaded, “Please let me die.” 

“Just wait, Harry,” Louis reluctantly said, “die tomorrow. I’ll come with you. Just wait until tomorrow.” Harry smiled weakly and rested next to Louis as he stroked his hair. The sentiment should have sounded less sincere, but Liam felt like if they were not rescued soon, Louis and Harry surely would die tomorrow. 

“The plane did see us,” Liam dared to question. 

“It’s hard to say,” Bran admitted. Liam went back to Zayn and lifted his limp head back on his lap. What if the plane did not see them? What if it did and they were too late? Liam looked at his five friends, all in various stages of dying. Would they live long enough to see rescue?

 

*****

 

The radar coordinates came in as soon as the pilots radioed that they found a raft. Court took control immediately. As luck would have it, he was on the nearest ship. Traveling one hundred knots with 10 kilometers per hour tailwind, the sailors estimated that they will be there in approximately two hours. Estimating the wind speed and hopefully there was no other drivers on the raft, they would probably not be too far from the coordinates. That is if everything went according to plan. 

“Increase to fifty knots southwest,” Court commanded, “tell the crows to keep an eye for an orange raft approximately heading 50 degrees southwest.” Seamen and officers followed his command as Court radioed close ships telling them of the plane’s coordinates. A small prayer stayed in his throat. He hoped that there were some survivors. He also hoped that they would find the tiny raft in such a vast ocean. 

*****

Several hours later and no plane had come. They did not see them. Liam saw that there was no hope, no need to live. He too wanted to die with Harry and Louis. Why should he care? Why did he care? Liam thought hard about that answer. Didn’t he vow something? Did he promise to protect someone? Why were they not inside? It was too hot to out there and he really wanted to go back to the house for some water. 

“Boat,” Bran said weakly. He looked out on the horizon and sure enough there was a distinct gray ship coming over this way. Both were too tired to do anything, but Bran mustered up all his strength to fire the rest of the flare guns. Liam saw the fireballs go into the air, slightly disappointed that the fireworks didn’t work. 

It took twenty minutes for the lifeboat to come to their raft. A man came out of the door and looked at them in amazement. 

“I am Commodore Courtney Briggs from the Royal Canadian Navy.” He introduced himself. He looked around at the pitiful sight he saw, and for a second fought back tears. They were in bad shape. All six young boys were skinny, and showed clear signs of dehydration. Tanned and naked, they showed signs of sun poisoning, and skin ulcers. One boy, lying under a tarp of pants, was seemingly comatose, possibly two. The other four seemed alert, but in a state of confusion. One of the boys looked to have signs of severe kidney failure. 

Liam shook Zayn to tell him they were rescued. The sick boy only moaned in response, but at least he was alive. The crew of the life boat took him into their boat along with Bran, Louis and Harry. Liam went over to check on Niall. 

“Niall,” Liam called. The Irish boy did not move. He shook the limp body, but got no reaction. He checked his pulse, but his swollen fingers were too numb to even feel his skin. He was probably gone, Liam realized. His friend was gone. He sobbed in his hair and hugged his friend tight. Not Niall he prayed, not sweet Niall. 

“Please don’t die Niall. We are rescued. Please don’t die,” Liam pleaded. He looked at his friend for any sign of life. To his surprise, Niall looked like he smiled. Did he? Was it just a shadow? It might not have been much, but Liam somehow knew that Niall would be okay. Niall knew that they were no longer lost at sea


	7. Epilogue

“Guess what Princess,” Court said on Skype, “We found them.”

Emma looked at him with glistening eyes, “Are they alright?”

Court looked at her thoughtfully. He had to choose his words carefully. They were in bad shape when they came to the boat. All six of them were given an IV and fluids. Harry and Louis perked up within a few hours. Zayn still needed oxygen treatment due to a previous respiratory arrest. He was responsive, but still on bed rest. Liam’s previous kidney problems caused a massive failure that required dialysis along with a series of shots and medications. But the response was good as of now. The flight attendant Bran had severe sun poisoning and was showing signs of hyperthermia, but since then his temperature had gone down. Then there was Niall. 

Court knew that Emma would be most concerned about her favorite band member. The boy was still in a coma. The Naval doctors saw that his EEG was coming back normal, but there could be signs of brain damage. The waiting was hard on everybody. The poor boy has not been responsive, but he was still alive. None of the doctors seemed hopeful. 

“Daddy will take good care of them, Princess,” Court responded. Emma smiled and thanked her daddy for being a good hero. Court signed off and went to check on the boys. 

The first bed was empty. Louis should have been in that bed, but his IV stand was missing as well. A loud laugh told Court that he was not far off. He was right. Louis was sitting cross-legged on Harry’s bed and the two boys played cards. Their bright eyes were a sharp contrast the lifeless dull ones earlier that day. He smiled at them and moved to the next room.   
Zayn quietly lied in his bed with bandages on severe skin ulcers. The British boy has an oxygen tube under is nose, and he was breathing deeply in and out. While his eyes were closed, Court knew that the boy was awake. He went to move on to the next room when a thick, British voice yelled out to him.

“I remember you,” it called. Court looked at him and smiled, “Thanks for saving us. “ Zayn smiled a tired smiled and settled down for a long sleep. 

Court moved on to Liam’s room. The young boy was sitting up, with hoses and wires coming out of his torso. There was pain on his face, but the doctors did feel that he will make a full recovery. He looked up at Court and tried to give him a convincing smile. 

“How are the other lads,” he asked. He probably wanted to take his mind off the pain. 

“Zayn just fell asleep, and the Louis escaped his bed to play cards with Harry,” Court said. 

“Told you not to separate those two,” Liam replied. He laughed. Court felt it was wrong to say anything about Niall. He did not want to upset the boy. He hoped Liam would not ask about his friend.

“Has Niall been responding to treatment yet,” Liam asked. Damn it, Court thought. 

“I haven’t check on him yet,” Court replied trying to stay upbeat. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Liam stated. It was like he knew, and nothing would convince him otherwise. Court hoped he was right.   
He smiled at the boy as a nurse came into the room and gave him more pain medication along with another series of shots.   
Court moved on to the Irish boy. Tubes and monitors were hooked up to his small, frail body. He moved ever so slowly into the room. No response. He fatherly stroked a rogue hair off the boy’s eyes. The blond responded to his touch and nudged his hand before opening his eyes and tried to focus on the figure before him. 

“God,” asked the boy in a thick Irish accent. Court laughed at the notion. 

“Did you save me,” the boy continued. 

“Yeah buddy, “Court answered. 

“Good,” Niall said, “We are no longer lost at sea”

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome you to post comments. I like feedback good or bad. Thank you. Enjoy!


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